


I can't breath with the dust of retreat

by PrettierAndYounger



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: Drabble, the gee & mikey tag is NOT romantic its just brotherly/platonic, to be clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettierAndYounger/pseuds/PrettierAndYounger
Summary: Everything was either dust, dirt or dead. Gerard was a bit of all three.





	I can't breath with the dust of retreat

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'a sea chanty of sorts' by margot & the nuclear so and so's
> 
> hi im trying again this time with the lovely gee. 
> 
> this is uhh kind of confusing so. semi spoilers (not really, just context): party was caught by BL/i. party was tortured somehow, and is now partially blind. party doesnt remember anything at all, ever. party is now gerard again. and then this story takes place

The desert was boring as fuck, Gerard decided. Not because there wasn’t enough action—no, he was ducking behind broken things every five fucking seconds. Mostly it was just too... pale. 

Everything was either dust, dirt or dead. Gerard was a bit of all three. 

It was amidst his musings and careful cleaning-out of a dusty cabinet that Gerard did not hear the door open. He did not hear it bang against the wall; nor did he hear the heavy footsteps coming into the room he was in. All he felt was the hairs on his neck raise—a sudden breeze, maybe—that made him whip around.

“Who the fuck are you?” Gerard said, loudly. The other man looked none the wiser; tall, blond, wearing the weirdest outfit Gerard’s seen in his life. The guy’s mouth was opening and closing like a little lost fish. Gerard shared the sentiment. 

“Uh.” The confused Hot Topic mannequin finally got out. Gerard frowned (this wasn’t making the situation any clear) and tightened his grip on his weapon. It was, of course, when he attempted to squeeze the trigger that he realized he was brandishing a miscellaneous can. Ah, sanity. No man’s trash.

“I can’t shoot you, so introduce yourself.” Gerard snarled. With his uncut hair and funky jacket, Gerard felt like a new man; one who growled at people and was at least twenty one. Also one who drank vodka. Maybe Gerard wasn’t cut out for being a new man.

“You’re Gerard.” Scene surfer boy was regaining some confidence, it appeared. Two words definitely topped one. Scene surfer boy also had a gun, so Gerard made a mental note to not share his mental notes out loud.

“That’s the opposite of introducing yourself,” was a clever thing Gerard could have said if he still had sentient thought. Instead he found himself with a little lost fish face. 

“Do you... not remember me?” 2007 Pete Wentz look-alike asked, but the exact amount of concern he displayed was hindered by his huge as fuck sunglasses. Seriously, no emotion could get around those boys. “We—I’m Kobra Kid. Or, maybe—Michael Way?”

“I’m Gerard Way. I see a pattern,” Gerard said, slowly lowering the can. Michael did the same with his Actual Real Gun, thus putting them at relative ease.

“Yeah, you are. I think we’re brothers.”

“I disagree,” Gerard said immediately. 

Michael frowned, so he elaborated. “Not enough in common. Whose the best mutant?”

“None of them. Their powers are old jokes and they stay too deeply within the binary confines of art and gender.” Hmm.. suspicious. Gerard had that exact, word-for-word thought at least once a day. 

“Zombies or vampires?”

“Clean split.” Shit, this Michael guy was convincing. “And don’t bother with more questions unless you want to get shot, the Dracs are on my tail.” 

“Well i’m exceptionally skilled at ducking behind tall things,” Gerard began, but Michael had already reached out and grabbed his arm. They then both paused and looked at each other. “...I’m not talking anymore, fake brother. Why are you still holding my arm.”

Michael frowned, which was becoming a recurring theme, and yanked them both through the cracked doors and out into the mundane beyond. He was right; the roar of cars was quiet but growing—and _ohfucktherewasacarrightthere._

“Why—fake bro no—" Gerard managed to yell, before being dragged into the back of a sleek black car and shoved against another person. 

This person was wearing a strange assortment of colors rivaling Michael’s, Gerard thought distantly. The most prevalent thought was that he had hair. And much of it. 

“Drive, Ghoul, we don’t have all day.” Michael snapped. He was gripping the seat in front of him so tightly that his knuckles went white; Gerard detected some concern in the way hair man tensed, and discerned the three as friends. 

“Why are you kidnapping me,” Gerard asked, and was met with a disappointing lack of response. Hair man only stared resolutely ahead, and Michael’s grip was getting exceedingly tight. When Gerard attempted to lean and peer at driver dude’s hands (was gripping things this hard common or a Michael thing? Gerard needed a frame of reference), Michael’s arm shot out and prevented him. 

This, naturally, led to a cycle of glaring until the muscles in Michael’s hands were outmatched by his eyes. And by then the deed was done; the empty warehouse was a dot in the distance and a different, less broken down building was becoming clearer. Gerard could just about define its edges by the time the car stopped, thus marking them as close enough that this building must be no threat.

Well. No threat to them. It could still be a threat to Gerard.

“Get out of the car,” Michael growled, as though Gerard had a choice when he had, while distracted by his own thoughts, been deposited on the dirty ground. Clean pants; a thing of the past. 

“Can someone please tell me why I’ve been kidnapped? I know I’m hot, I just don’t think that’s a reason.” 

Gerard felt rather plaintive making demands on the ground, to hairy man’s concerned eyes—so of course his next course of action was standing up. And of course this was rendered incapable by his weak little bastard legs, comparable to the Christian church in 1 AD. 

Thankfully hairy man was there to right him when Gerard stumbled (and then place him right back on the ground. Ah, dignity). As it was, this didn’t do much for his reputation as a man worthy of respect—when once the conversation at least eyed him, it now went over his head. 

“Why didn’t he recognize me? Usually they do, when they see a close face. Nothing’s changed,” Michael was saying. Gerard could tell they meant him; but his interrogation questions were easy as fuck, so did they really think he’d trust this random guy? 

“Dude, I said this before. We’re not brothers,” Gerard exclaimed. Thank god they stopped talking so he could continue. “Seriously, we aren’t even alike! You’re blond! And everyone fucking knows zombies and vampires are on completely different levels and therefore incomparable.”

Michael stared at him. Hair man stared at him. Driver dude also stared at him, which felt like a bit much since they hadn’t even spoken to each other. 

“My hair is obviously dyed. And we have the same mouth. Honestly, Gee, the fuck?” 

It was in this moment that Gerard physically felt the earth pass a specific point on its axis-based turn. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh god, Gerard thought, and then thought again in a different order. 

Gerard grabbed Michael’s leg and yanked, making Michael collapse on the ground beside him. While the man was still groaning, he landed his entire hand on Michael’s face and felt around a bit. Nose… eyes… eyebrows. “Mikey,” Gerard said, in a voice of childlike wonder.

“Your finger is literally up my nose,” Mikey replied. Yeah, they were brothers.

**Author's Note:**

> you can comment if there's something you think I can improve in my writing! Or if there's a typo. I wrote this in my phone in all lowercase so probably there's a typo. 
> 
> also you can comment if you have an idea I should do next? or whatever. thx for reading


End file.
